Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
by BondSlave
Summary: 30 drabbles revolving around Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Yes JohnLock. Written in Sherlock's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Sherlock Holmes or any related characters or plotlines.

Authors Note: Participating in a 30 day drabble challenge via Tumblr. I've chosen to write each of my drabbles using Sherlock Holmes (The novels incase you were wondering). And instead of the usual 'from Watson's POV' I will be writing this in Sherlock's POV, that seems funner. :) This is my first time writing Sherlock Holmes.

Pairing: John Lock (No sex, sorry but I want my non-slash shipping friends to be able to enjoy this. There may be implied slash-sex in the future but do not count on it.)

Warnings: None

Beginning

I noticed it early on but wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I'd fiddled around with the idea for awhile before more pressing matters involving my current case forced the thought to the back burner of my mind so to speak. Then after awhile I just started avoiding it all together. Something in my gut told me that I did not want to analyze that idea further. It was of no importance! It meant nothing! Leave it alone my instinct told me. Unfortunately, it was a problem in need of solving. Naturally there was no way for me to avoid it given my nature.

The analysis of the problem finally came to a head in early October, the night John returned from the hospital a little worse for wear. I'd been pacing before the fire puffing on my pipe while trying to figure out what this idea or feeling could possibly mean when my friend came through the door with a pained sigh. I'd been startled to note that I hadn't heard the door downstairs open or his ascent on the stairs.

"Good evening Watson." I said, withdrawing my pipe from between my teeth, a light haze of smoke filtering out of my mouth and nose. The glow of my pipe was beginning to die down and I turned to the slipper resting on the mantel place to refill it. I made a mental note that should I go out in the next couple of days I had better stop at the shops to stock up on my favorite tobacco.

"Good evening Holmes." My friend replied as he shrugged stiffly out of his jacket and hung it upon the tree in the corner, hissing in discomfort as he did so. Seeing his discomfort I immediately called for Mrs. Hudson to put the kettle on and brew us both a nice cup of hot tea. The tea would do my friend some good, and I could do with it myself.

"Are you quite well?" I asked as he crossed to his chair and sat down heavily. I sat in my own across from him, pipe forgotten on the mantel place. He offered a small smile and a glance my way before leaning his head back and closing his eyes with a sigh.

"Quite well, Holmes. Just a bit stiff is all, in my shoulder." He said gesturing to his shoulder. The shoulder I knew to be the shoulder he'd taken a bullet to while in Afghanistan. The shoulder was often stiff and would occasionally cause my friend discomfort if the weather was exceptionally cold. I had noted earlier on in the day while sulking about in my evening gown that it was rather chilly, even for October.

"Perhaps I could aid you in applying that salve you use." The offer had slipped out before I'd properly thought about it and I mentally kicked myself for not thinking before I spoke. He eyed me with a slightly raised eyebrow but his eyes crinkled and he nodded.

"The help would be much appreciated. When my shoulder is exceptionally stiff I find it a bit difficult to reach the back of it. Thank you Holmes."

I would have let out a sigh if it would not have caused suspicion. I once again scolded myself but didn't linger to much on it as Mrs. Hudson had entered with the tea I'd requested. She bumbled about asking John about his day and his patience as she set out our tea and a plate of biscuits she'd included of her own volition. I listened quietly while I sipped at my tea and nibbled at a biscuit without tasting it.

John cheerfully spoke of his patience. He said that a few had come down with the seasonal illness but would be fine so long as they were kept warm and given plenty of fluids. He also spoke of his favorite patient, a young woman who'd been heavily pregnant with child for some time now. He'd beamed and explained that he'd successfully aided in the birth of a healthy baby boy earlier that day. John was so enthusiastic and cheerful while speaking of his work that I'd fail to notice the crumbs from the biscuits raining down on my evening gown.

Once Mrs. Hudson head left us alone John finally turned to his tea, adding only a bit of honey for sweetness before sipping at it. He sighed contently and gazed into the fireplace. As the silence descended between us I found myself examining him over my forgotten cup of tea. His eyes were cheerful if not tired. His shirt collar as well as the cuffs of his sleeves showed signs of obvious stress and tension but his hair was neat meaning whatever was bothering him was not to be worried about. While examining his face for traces of stress I found my grey eyes resting on his own green ones, and that is when the thought struck me. The answer to my question.

For months I'd been pondering over this idea, this thought, this feeling; this feeling that came over me while in the company of my flat mate. It was a feeling I'd never felt before, not anywhere or with anyone. Contentedness. Happiness even. The revelation took me by such great surprise that I'd nearly tipped over my tea cup and let out a slightly startled sound when a few drops rained down on my worn night gown.

"Are you alright Holmes?" John asked, his brows creased with concern. I waved him off and set the cup down on the table between our chairs as I began wiping away the strain with my hand.

"Yes, yes fine, fine. Got lost in thought, you know I do that sometimes my good man."

"Ah, yes, quite right. I do hope you haven't damaged yourself or your gown."

"What's one more stain Watson?" I asked with a small quirky smile as I settled back in my chair. He chortled and nodded at me as he took a sip of his tea. It was no secret that my night gown was covered in the occasional stain given my habit of occasionally rising at odd hours in the night to experiment.

But as silence once again descended upon us I couldn't help but think over the revelation I'd had. I hadn't thought it possible. I'd always seen it as something _normal _people did, but not I. Sherlock Holmes was by no means a _normal _person. But all of the evidence was there. Contentedness. Comfort. The rise in body temperature. Slightly elevated pulse rate. No doubt if my companion were more observant he would have noted the dilated pupils. I'd grown _fond _of my flat mate. I felt flabbergasted. I'd fallen in love with John Watson!

I'd never fallen in love before and thus had nothing to really compare this feeling to but I could think of no other alternative. It was more than fondness that I harbored for my friend, for I was quite fond of Mrs. Hudson and this was quite a deal stronger than what I felt towards the kind woman. I tried to think back but nothing even came close. I'd never loved my parents and they'd never loved me. Perhaps I'd loved my nanny, but I'd been so young when she'd been replaced by tutors that I could not rely on the memory. I did love my brother Mycroft but it was complicated and unhappy, our relationship. But this, this feeling I had for John… it was similar to the feeling I had for my brother, only stronger with no strings attached and happy.

This realization gave me quite a turn. Not only was it bizarre but unnatural. It was not natural for a man to fall in love with another man! Or so said society. I personally had never given it much thought. I'd never cared to pay much attention to what _normal_ people did or didn't do or who they loved or didn't love. I'd always thought myself above love and sex. But now, now it seemed I'd been wrong. Yes. There would be no denying it. I'd fallen for my flat mate. Admitting it to myself made my heart soar and my mind deliriously happy, but the high didn't last and was soon replaced with anxiety and a tinge of fear.

To give my hands something to do I poured myself a little more tea and began absentmindedly sipping at it. I let my gaze dart across to John who had picked up the Evenings Post and was reading over it with a contented smile. I could never reveal to John these feelings of mine or he might grow disgusted with me and leave! Or worse, turn me in. Despite it not being entirely uncommon, homosexuality is illegal here in London and if it were revealed that I were homosexual I could face some prison time. No, John must never know.

A while later my friend folded the post and let out a sigh and a groan as he stretched in his seat. I set my cup aside and gazed at him, drawing my mind away from my current train of thought to focus solely on him.

"It's been a long day, I think I'll turn in early Holmes."

"Alright. I'll fetch that salve and help you before you retire." I said standing and crossing to the drawers where he kept his medical supplies. I only had to look for a moment before I found the jar I often saw him using to apply the ointment. I unscrewed the lid and sniffed at it before frowning and looking at the label. "John, did you get a new solution? This one smells more pleasant than the last." I inquired as I turned back to him. He'd removed his vest, undone his tie and unbuttoned the upper half of his shirt. He glanced back at me to see the jar I'd grabbed.

"Ah yes. This works just as well as the last but stings less." He commented as I joined him. I read over the label before looking at him and the fire.

"It would be easier if you were to sit on the floor, if your leg will allow it." I stated and he nodded, easing from his chair and onto the floor. I knelt down before him and set the jar on the table. I helped ease the shirt off of him and looked over his shoulder.

His shoulder now laid bare before me was quite a sight to behold. The skin was smooth save for a pale puckered scar that jagged across his shoulder. Nearing the center the scar grew larger and more rounded, where the bullet had struck him. Drawing the jar to me I slipped three of my fingers into the smooth salve and dug out a considerable amount before returning my sights to my friend.

"Do warn me if I hurt you." I said eyeing him. Once he'd nodded I returned to the task at hand. I began rubbing the salve around the scaring before moving inward. My fingers grew gentler as they ran across the risen skin of the scar and more abrasive as they rose to the top of his shoulder. John didn't complain once but instead sighed with relief as the salve began to warm his skin and my fingers massaged his sore muscles.

Once I'd finished with the front I maneuvered my way behind him and began the same treatment in reverse. Now no longer seated in front him though I let my mind wander a little. I really was lucky to have John in my life. He kept me grounded. Reminded me to be _human_ as he often put it. Sometimes I wonder what draws me to John, and now I question it even more. What does _draw _me to this man? Perhaps it was because he was the complete opposite of me. Where I was the coldest humanity had to offer he was perhaps the kindest and gentlest.

John was strong, not only in body but in heart and mind. He could handle a lot, a lot more than a lesser man. His body could take a beating, has taken a beating. He has the scars to prove it. And yet, he battles on despite his injured form. His heart, I am convinced, is much larger than that of an average man. He is so kind and caring to everyone, even those he things little of. His heart is kind enough to tolerates me and my coldness. I know I've caused him heartache and yet he never leaves. He stays by my side. I'll forever thank whatever God maybe out there for his heart. His mind has endured so much. Endured what would break another man. John H. Watson is a man deserving far better than what he has settled for.

"Holmes?"

I blinked startled at the sound of my name. I hummed to note I was listening. My hands had began slowly massaging at his shoulder in an absentminded manner.

"Sorry Watson, lost in thought again I'm afraid. Is this enough?" I asked, referring to the salve that I'd rubbed on him. He nodded in the affirmative and I removed my hand, (reluctantly I noted.)

"Yes, very good, thank you Holmes." He said stretching his shoulder as I stood and moved out of his way. He got to his feet and gathered his discarded tie and vest. "Good night Holmes, tell Mrs. Watson that I will be skipping dinner."

"Alright. Sleep well Watson."

"You to Holmes, if you go to bed." He said with a chuckle before he headed up the stairs to his room.

Once he'd vanished and I'd heard the click of his bedroom door and fell heavily into my chair. I slouched, my chin resting against my chest and my arms dangling over the side. My fingers were still covered in the warming salve that I'd applied to him but I didn't bother wiping it away. I sighed. Living with John would become harder now. But if I had to suffer due to my feelings, to keep John by my side than so be it. Nothing was more important than his friendship. Nothing.

Rubbing my face with my clean hand I gazed into the fire, my grey eyes tired and weary.

"Sherlock, this is the beginning of your end." I mused to myself dully.

Authors Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. I know I did.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Sherlock Holmes or any related characters or plots.

Review Response(s)

**UnderdogAngel**, Yes well we both know how poor my grammar is. And that patience vs patients, yes sorry I missed that one! I'd completely skimmed over it, which is funny since I do actually know the difference. All well. Glad you're interested.

**Strudel**, Oh I do wish you'd be signed in so I could have messaged you properly. I have several inspirations for this beginning relationship...thing, or whatever it is blossoming in the head of Sherlock. A scene from one of the old Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies (can't recall the title at the moment and the DVD is packed away) that showed Sherlock and John being quite chummy in front of the fire place. I've only read one full Sherlock novel, but I've read a few of fanfiction stating that John does start working at a hospital so I decided to go along that line, any excuse to have the old Doctor out and about. 'The problem' ? I don't think I've read it. I've only read about a dozen or so Sherlock Holmes (novel verse) fics. I chose the setting (in front of the fire) because it reminded me of a Spirk (Spock/Kirk) Christmas fan-art I'd saved onto my computer a while ago. Nice, warm, cheery, comfortable. Perfect setting for something like this. But the basic plot of Sherlock coming to realize he's fallen for John's been fluttering about my skull since I got into Sherlock Holmes which was about, oh, eight years ago now I'd say. It just always seemed like it would play out like this to me. Sherlock's a logical, brainy man who never pays attention to the norms of society. It just felt natural that he'd be a bit confused and weary about the whole thing. And I've done some research on Victorian England for other stories (original and otherwise) and recalled reading about homosexuality in Victorian England so I thought I'd throw that in there. I'm not sure if it's accurate, since I'm not exactly sure 'when' this drabble takes place, but I assume the laws fit. I hope that covers everything. But I'd be interested in reading 'The Problem'. If it has similar situations with a confused Sherlock and eventual love between the two I'd be more than eager to add it to my JohnLock collection.

Authors Note: Alright, onto my second drabble! This one didn't come as naturally to me as the other one. Beginnings for romantic pairings that I ship are always easy, but when doing a challenge and being forced to jump from scenario to scenario, well that's a bit trickier. Hopefully this one will be okay. It was difficult to right and I'm not to happy with it. I've known how I wanted things to happen in my head for ages but putting it down is tricky.

Accusation

I've come to the conclusion that hiding my feelings for John will be quite a bit harder than I originally thought. I try not to act any differently towards him, but it would seem that I've made it a habit to look after him when his back is turned. Always checking him over for ills and injury. I hadn't noticed this small change but apparently someone had.

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade made a comment to me about it while I'd been down to see him at Scotland Yard. Looking back, it's obvious that the Inspector hadn't meant anything by it. He'd been merely commenting on my friendship with John. But due to the recent secret I've come to harbor in my heart and mind I panicked. I'd left quickly with a sharp goodbye, no doubt confusing the usually befuddled Inspector.

At his comment about John I'd felt cornered, and like a cornered animal I'd snapped at the man. I doubt he would think much of it seeing as my behavior is rarely seen as normal, but the fact that I'd reacted in such away astounds me. I'd felt so trapped, as though the Inspector had figured it out. Just his commented made me feel like he were accusing me of something. Perhaps this is the way an accused guilty man feels. It is unpleasant.

Once I'd left Scotland Yard I'd headed straight back to 221B Baker Street. Unfortunately, once I'd arrived Poor Mrs. Hudson had caught me in the sourest of moods. Being the lady in nature that she is she immediately wanted to know what was wrong. Of course even if I'd wanted to I could never have her partake with me in this secret of mine. The poor woman would no doubt think me a sick man, and I couldn't allow that. But while she hovered and attempted to asertain what was wrong I snapped at her in anger. Poor woman rushed away leaving me alone. I knew deep down that I shouldn't have snapped at her, but even so I was in to bad a mood to apologize. Unfortunately my day didn't seem to improve with time.

I sat sourly in my armchair gazing hatefully into the fireplace. The fire had grown a bit low but I had no inclination to tend to it. My mood was far to sour. I'd had an awful morning as awful mornings went. There were currently no stimulating cases to be solved for Scotland Yard and I hadn't had a client in weeks. I could feel my mind growing stagnant. It was times like these that I most craved the cocaine but I'd been trying to cut back my intake. The last time I'd used any I'd gone through three syringes and John had grown rather cross with me. So instead of going to my hidden stash I sat sulking in my chair.

After I'd sat in my chair for two hours, not budging an inch I heard the heavy footfalls of John on the stairs. I could hear his voice muffled through the door and a fainter voice down stairs. He was obviously talking to Mrs. Hudson. She was no doubt regaling my flat mate with the details of our encounter earlier that afternoon. She always did go running to John when my mood grew unbearably foul.

Not a moment later John entered, quickly closing the door behind him and shirking out of his coat and hanging it on the tree in the corner before crossing to stand between myself and the fireplace.

"You snapped at Mrs. Hudson?" He inquired in a befuddled manner. I glowered up at him from my slumped position and didn't bother straightening up as I replied,

"She was hovering. I want to be left alone." I grumbled. He ran a hand over his hair and shook his head in a manner that told me he was once again distraught due to my behavior.

"That's no reason to shout at the poor lady, you've given her such a turn Sherlock!"

"You'd give her a turn to if you'd had the day I'd had!" I snapped back at him before standing and crossing to my secret place where I kept my narcotics. If John's mere presence did nothing but elevate my aggravated mood than I'd turn to my cocaine. At least with it my mind would be stimulated.

"What are you doing?"

I whirled around holding the container carefully in my hands.

"Use your head Watson! You have eyes, you know very well what I'm doing!"

"Sherlock, you know how I feel about that."

I merely growled at him before turning and heading upstairs to my bedroom, leaving John to do as he pleased with the remainder of his day.

Once alone in my room and after I'd taken a dose of cocaine, I lay on my back on my bed, gazing dully up at the ceiling. This secret of mine, I'd kept it only a week and already it was beginning to eat away at my insides. I'd kept many secrets in the past, some still to this very day, but this one seemed different. Perhaps it was because this one was rooted in on an emotional level rather than an intellectual one. John. Blast the man for coming into my life and turning it all around. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to come and change everything?

Of course I realized that it wasn't really John's fault. In fact he'd probably done me a favor. John, always trying to help even when he doesn't realize it. Of course, he also doesn't realize what trouble his help can cause. I can't think properly when it comes to John. I dread the day my enemies realize that. For John has become perhaps, my only true weakness.

After the effect of the cocaine had worn off considerably I found my mood less sour and made my way down to the living area to find John sitting at the table with tea and an early dinner. I noted that my place was also set.

"Ah, Holmes. Still in a foul mood are you?" John inquired. I noted the harsh tone in his voice as I approached the table. It was barely noticeable, and no doubt no one else would have heard it; but I did. He looked over the cold food.

Vegetable soup and freshly baked bread. A simple meal to fight off the chill. Even when I've done her wrong Mrs. Hudson always takes care of me.

"Better." I stated simply as I walked around the side of the table and towards the tree in the corner. I could feel John's eyes on my back and hear the slight creak of the chair as he twisted round to watch me.

"Holmes where are you going?" he asked as I put on my coat. I was sure to button it as it would be quite chilly outside.

"Please thank Mrs. Hudson for me but I will not be taking dinner at home tonight. I'm going out to eat. I've arranged to meet someone for dinner." I stated simply as I crossed to the door.

"But you haven't left your room!" John stated in a befuddled voice. I turned, my hand on the door handle, and smiled a small sad smile at my friend.

"I shouted at one of my undesirable boys through my bedroom window, had him send a line. I'm surprised you didn't hear me." I stated with a soft chuckle before leaving my friend alone to his dinner.

Once I'd left 221B I headed into the heart of London, to a well known and rather popular diner. I'd forgone a cabby and walked to try and help clear my head and also help ease my anxiety, which had begun growing in my chest since I'd told the boy to send a line to my dinning companion. When I'd first arrived I'd gotten an odd look from the seater who'd no doubt noticed my dirty shoes and pant legs. I'd collected a bit of mud and dirt while walking but not much. It would be easily dusted away. But when I'd stated that I was here to meet someone under the reservation Holmes he immediately lead me through the restaurant, apologizing for his scrutiny.

The man lead me to the back of the restaurant to a quiet, comfortable private little booth before going away to fetch me a glass of water and a menu. Stepping around to the booth I sighed a little to myself. I'd only managed a week with my secret and already I was asking for help. John what have you done to me?

"Good evening Mycroft." I said cordially as I slid into my seat, nodding to the man seated across the table from me. "I hope you are well."

"Hmn, have you ever dined here before Sherlock?" He asked while looking over the menu. He didn't bother greeting me formally at all, but I hadn't expected him to.

"You are well aware that my funds do not permit me to dine in such well known diners." I stated as the man returned with my water and menu. I nodded in thanks and began leafing through the menu.

"You really should try their chocolate cake, it's quite good."

"Aren't you on a diet Mycroft? You really shouldn't be cheating."

Mycroft lowered his menu and looked at me over it. A quirky smile graced his lips and he set aside the menu completely.

"I speak from experience. I can assure you I'm not cheating." He stated before nodding at me. "Good evening Sherlock. I must admit, I was surprised when I received your line to meet you. As far as I know, in less I've been bashed on the head and lost any form of sanity, it is not Christmas yet."

"You're sane." I replied as I took a sip of my water.

"Yes. So it begs the question, what does my dear little brother Sherlock need from me to have called me before the holidays."

I'd known Mycroft would tease me a little for having called him, but expecting it made it no less unpleasant. I was not thrilled to have had to call him. I tried to leave my brother alone as much as possible, only getting into contact with him when he was the one to initiate it, and usually then it was only because he required me to do some work that he was to lazy to do himself.

"Mycroft, do I ever call on you asking for help?" I inquired. His teasing manner fell and an annoyed, stern, brotherly look came over him.

"No. Usually you're already neck deep in trouble without realizing it before I come to your rescue." He stated, his voice annoyed. It was true that he did sometimes have to pull strings to keep me out of trouble. No doubt it was a bit of burden on him, but I would never apologize, and he'd never ask me to. At least we were in understanding on that point.

"Yes. Well I've called to ask for your help. It isn't with money or anything like that, but, I wish to speak to you on a matter most troubling."

He leaned back in his seat and nodded, gesturing for me to continue. "Now Mycroft, before I speak of the matter you must promise me that you won't tell anyone else. This must be strictly between us. Now I know that we have our differences and we sometimes quarrel but I'm trusting you as my brother not to judge me."

"Go on, what is this matter that you are so secretive and worried about?"

I took a deep breath and another sip of water. It was a big step to confide in my brother. We were never terrible close as children due to the fact that he was quite a bit older than me and was always away at school while I was growing up. But when we did see one another he was always kind. He would occasionally bring me books or toys or candy as gifts. But that was about it. We rarely had time to get to know each other properly due to mother and father always monopolizing my brothers time. The last time I'd properly confided in my brother was when I was six-years-old, and to this day I remember little about the encounter. I just know that he'd been to busy and aggravated to answer my questions.

"Mycroft, for the last week or so I've been harboring a secret, a possibly harmful secret." I tapped my finger tips against the table top and decided to just come out with it, no point in dancing around it. "It seems that I've fallen in love with my flat mate, John Watson."

Once I'd said it I paused to gauge his response. Would he be disgusted? Would he to cast me out? Would I become not only the disgraceful son but also the disgraced and hated brother? I was mildly surprised when Mycroft leaned forward a bit and clasped his hands on the table top, a thoughtful twinkle in his eyes.

" I never would have guessed." He stated simply, a small smile quirking his lips. He looked at me. "Sherlock Holmes, has fallen in love with John Watson." He chuckled quietly and leaned back once again. "Is that what's gotten you all bothered Sherlock? Don't think I didn't notice when you came in. You're obviously stressed."

"Mycroft do you not realize what this means? I've fallen in love with another man. How can you be concerned over my state when I've just revealed to you that I'm a homosexual."

"Sherlock, I would have reacted no differently if you'd told me that you'd fallen in love with a wild ass. It isn't the fact that you've fallen in love with another man that has surprised me." He starred me straight in the face. "It is the fact that you've fallen in love at all. Sherlock, ever since you were a child you were always very cold, perhaps colder than even I. You never could read other peoples emotions or respond emotionally. You were always very rash and logical." He stated. I shook my head and leaned back.

"You were always more logical than I."

"But I have always fiddled around with emotions and love. I've had affairs and enjoyed the company of women. They've never meant much to me in the long run but at the time I was quite fond of them. You never had that growing up. You never fell in love during your youth. You never showed any emotional growth. So Sherlock, when I say this believe me. I do not care that you've fallen in love with another man, I am just happy that you have finally fallen in love."

After my confession dinner with my brother was rather enjoyable. And even though it would have normally entertained me, I did not taste the cake or tease my brother with it. For once I was thankful for my time spent with him. I hadn't expected him to understand let alone be happy for me. I think he'll always manage to surprise me. We spoke of trivial matters while we dined but as the night drew on and I prepared to leave in the cabby he'd called for me he pulled me aside and asked if John knew of my feelings for him. I told him no. Explained that John's presence in my life and his friendship was so important to me that I dared not endanger them with a confession. He seemed disapproving of my decision and encouraged me to tell John. That I'd feel better once I did. He also requested that should I tell John, he wished to be informed.

I thought about what he said while sitting alone in the cabby. Should I tell John? Or shouldn't I?

Authors Note: Well, didn't quite come out the way I'd hoped, but it's the basic of what I always wanted to happen. I know nothing about Mycroft in the novels, and have only ever read about him on wikipedia and seen him on BBCs Sherlock. So this is my own interpretation of him and I do apologize for that. Also, if you have any questions that need to be cleared up just leave a review and I'll try and answer them in detail in the next drabble. Always good to give detailed answers.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Sherlock Holmes or any related characters or plots.

Review Response(s)

**The Epic uber Nerd**, Yeah Sherlock is very brash and forward but I always thought it would be cuter if he didn't. There will be mentionings of Mycroft here and there. He may return one more time, twice…I actually don't know. Haha. He'll probably return.

**Charlock221**, Thanks. I really fail at challenges, like day to day challenges cause life is so unexpected and unplanned. But I'm not quiting on this story or any of my others! It may take awhile to finish them all but someday they will all e completed and I can totally die happy then. XD Jk, there'll be more to come after that. I can never stop writing.

Authors Note: So it's been forever. Oy. But I'm bored, don't wanna work on any original works so HERE I am to update! Sorry for the wait guys. After reading A Study in Scarlet I kinda stopped cause I'm not ready to meet Mary yet. But last night I picked it back up and am three chapters into the next Sherlock novel.

Restless 

It had been three days since my dinner with Mycroft and I still had yet to decide if I would confess my feelings to John or not. I was always the one to jump on decisions, even if they were wrong. I never hesitated. But this was so much harder than any case I'd ever been on. This decision may not have been life or death but it might as well have been. What if John left? I couldn't bare to live without him as my friend. He really was the only person in the world that showed any sort of interest in me. He leveled me. Reminded me to be human. He's taught me so much. I have to admit that I'm a poor student. I doubt I've ever pleased him. I doubt I will ever please him. But he's never given up on me. Could I really go on if I were to lose that? That security? That friendship?

My less that cheery thoughts were interrupted when John entered, closing the door quickly behind him before removing his scarf and coat, hanging both items on the tree in the corner. I rose an eyebrow at him from my place at the table where I'd been attempting to nibble at a biscuit that Mrs. Hudson had left for me earlier.

"Blimey it's cold out." He grumbled as he walked stiffly to the fire place where he proceeded to warm himself. I set my biscuit aside and stood, dusting off the front of my shirt as I walked around the table and to the back of my chair where I rested my hands. I gazed over at him a bit curiously.

"Did they not need you at the hospital today Watson?" I inquired. He rubbed his hands together before turning to look at me directly and to warm his no doubt chilled bottom.

"No. My associate has everything under control and so I thought why not return home early? The weather is also starting to turn for the worse so I doubt I'll be going in tomorrow as well."

"Ah yes. I'm sure your associate can keep things under control for a day or so." I remarked. I knew very little about John's associate except that he was an outstanding doctor as John put it. John had a lot of faith in the younger doctor.

"No doubt, no doubt." John sighed and smiled as he moved from the fire and sat in his chair with a sigh. "So what have you been doing Holmes? Any clients come calling for you today?"

I walked around my chair and slumped down into it, my hands dangling over the sides in a rather dejected manner. A manner he no doubt thought was a weebit childish.

"None. I have seen neither head nor tail of any clients. Not so much as a post. Crime is down this month Watson. It's strange, with Halloween coming up you would think that crime would be rampant. What with all of the cult groups and what not."

My friend chuckled and shook his head as he pulled a novel he'd been reading for the past few nights to him and opened it to his book marker. He no doubt thought my complaining silly but I didn't care. I'd had no clients for nearly a month. I was going mad with boredom and stress and I couldn't even take refuge in my cocaine for fear of disappointing John again.

"I'm sure something will come up Sherlock. Till then I suggest you find some other way to stimulate yourself." He replied in an absentminded manner, his lips parting ever so slightly as he began to read. I pouted. It was not amusing, this retched boredom.

"I'm just so restless John. I have so much energy and nothing to do with it so I literally do nothing all day! I wander about the flat in a daze. My brain is rotting John. Rotting! Can't you understand? Have you never been so utterly bored that you felt that your brain would literally ooze out your ears?" I inquired, desperate to gain back his attention. If I was going to be bored, he should at least talk to me to help ease the boredom a little. With a sigh John set his book on his lap and looked into the fire.

I could see his brows furrowing slightly as he thought before he looked at me. There was a dull seriousness to his expression that told me he was only talking to me to humor me.

"Yes. Yes I have." He stated before looking back to the fire. "I remember a time while in Afghanistan where we'd received no orders for days. We just sat about camp in the heat with nothing to do. I recall laying on my cot gazing up at the top of the tent vacantly for hours. I'd prayed for orders. A surprise attack anything. But nothing came, not for a few more days."

"Did you remain on your cot the entire time?" I asked with a cynical brow raised. Surly John would have found a way to entertain himself. He was so easily amused as it were. I could hardly believe that he just remained in the tent on his cot till they'd received orders.

"Yes. Actually. But I'll admit that the boredom vanished. I recall that two days before we received any orders a young man by the name of Joseph Dower arrived at our camp with minor injuries. Easily treated. He ended up staying in my tent. He was a spirited fellow. Kept me well entertained." John smiled, a twinkle in his eyes and nodded, picking up his books again. "Yes. Very entertained." he mused more to himself than to me, humming slightly as he returned to his book.

I cocked a brow. I had to admit I was curious. How did this Dower fellow entertain John? Probably in some way that I no doubt wouldn't understand. It was probably with stories or jokes or cards. Something simple that John would enjoy. But even the thought of it being something so simple didn't stave away the curiosity. But one glance at John told me that he wouldn't be humoring me anymore. He'd fully immersed himself in his reading. With a sigh I returned my gaze to the fire blazing in the grate. My thoughts wandered back to the dinner I'd had with Mycroft and his advice to tell John about my feelings. I glanced once again towards my friend. My honest, kind, good friend. He deserved so much more. He deserved better than me. As my gaze returned to the fireplace a sinking feeling over came me. I would have to tell John about my feelings. He deserved to know. It may drive him away, may ruin our friendship forever, but he deserved to know. Even if it would hurt him.

Authors Note: So, the big reveal will be in the next drabble. Sorry this one was so short and boring but yeah. I had little inspiration for this part.


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